


61. Bad Day

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [61]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	61. Bad Day

_**Ryan Kwanten & Sam Worthington: Bad Day**_  
[current]

Dinner is cold again. It's a standard thing now; Ryan has even started cooking dinner later each day, expecting Sam to get home well past the time he's supposed to; heaven help him if Sam ever comes home early. And hungry. He figures the chicken and cashew stir-fry is harmless enough -- not quite steak and potatoes, but not raw calamari, either. After giving in to his own appetite and eating a little, Ryan settles back on the couch with a book to wait for his lover.

It's been a bad day. Worst fucking day yet. And Sam's so fucking pissed off by the time he gets home that he actually spends a few minutes sitting outside, in the driveway, wondering if he should really take his shitty mood in to Ryan. But when it comes down to it, he'd expected a lot more days like this and Ryan might as well see him at his fucking worst. Have the chance to get the hell out now if he wants it. He grabs his bag from the seat beside him and slams the car door, stomping up the steps to the front porch.

Ryan is all smiles when Sam stalks in, until he catches sight of the dark look on Sam's face. "Hey... whoa," he says, falling back a step. "You okay?" It's got to be one of the stupidest questions on Earth.

"Do I look fucking okay?" Sam asks, dropping his bag inside the door.

Stupid. Right. "No," Ryan replies, feeling like it was probably a rhetorical question anyway. He's never seen Sam so angry before, and rushes to try to fix things. "What can I do for you?"

Sam sets his stance and looks at Ryan. Just looks at him. Anger roiling under the surface, aching to get out. "You really want to know?"

 _No._ Shit. Ryan swallows hard and then nods, taking a step closer, even though he can feel Sam's mood pounding around him like a bad aura. "Yes."

Taking the word as permission, Sam nods. "Get your clothes off and get on your fucking knees."

Ryan swiftly unbuttons his shirt, telling himself all the while that this is not about him: Sam came home pissed off. It's not Ryan. He lets his shirt fall to the floor and quickly kicks out of his jeans, dropping to his knees.

Stepping closer, Sam places his hand on Ryan's cheek, stroking his thumb over the cheekbone, contemplating what he's about to do. How it's the quickest way to get everything out of his system. Still trying to settle his mood without giving in, but it doesn't work. So instead he draws his hand back and slaps Ryan across the face. Holding nothing back.

It knocks Ryan to the side and he has to firm up his posture again, gasping. "Christ," he whispers, pain exploding through his face. He lifts his eyes to watch Sam warily, his body tense.

"You can tell me to stop," Sam says, a dark arousal already pooling in his groin. "If you want me to, I will, but if you don't say it now, I won't be giving you another out later."

Ryan swallows hard, then shakes his head. "I can take it," he says, his voice quiet but firm.

"Yeah?" Sam strikes him again. Same cheek, the blow every bit as sharp as the first.

" _Fuck._ " Ryan's head snaps to the side, and he has to bite down on the natural urge to fight back. He could take Sam in a fair fight, he's pretty sure, and that thought's got no place in this situation _anywhere_. "Thank you, Sir," he whispers, watching Sam steadily.

Sam stares back. "You're hoping I'll fuck you, aren't you?" he says finally. "Take my anger out on you that way."

"I don't fucking give a shit," Ryan snaps. Deliberately goading Sam. "I can handle anything you can give me."

"Is that right?" Sam had been softening there for a second, starting to regret taking his anger out on Ryan with his hands, but the words push him right back where he began, putting the edge back on his mood when he was starting to bury it. "Stand the fuck up," he orders.

Ryan gets to his feet, his hands in fists at his sides. Tension radiates from the sharp lines of his body, and he doesn't take his eyes off Sam for a second.

"Put your hands behind your head," Sam grits out. "And don't fucking drop them or you'll be sleeping on the floor tonight."

Hell, if Ryan sleeps on the floor he'll just be more pissed off in the morning, but he manages to keep that thought to himself, his jaw tight as he clasps his hands loosely together behind his head.

Sam nods. Reaches out and grasps Ryan, stroking him to full hardness and then just as quickly, hauling off and slapping the side of his cock.

"Fuck!" Ryan reels from the pain, breathing hard through his mouth and trying to keep his shit together. He's got no idea what Sam wants from him right now, but he's riding the adrenaline and the pain. His eyes burn as he glares at his lover.

"You said you could take anything," Sam reminds him, slapping the other side. The sadist in him coming out in full force.

"I can," Ryan grates out, his teeth grinding. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna be quiet about it."

"I didn't say you had to be," Sam says with a dark grin and another slap. "I like it when you scream."

"Fuck you!" Ryan spits out, his cock on fucking fire. He keeps telling himself this is not real, this is just play. But Sam came home so clearly spoiling for a fight and Ryan doesn't know how to _not_ give it to him. How to take all this like a good boy, whatever that means.

"No. Fuck you," Sam growls back, getting his hand on the back of Ryan's neck and pushing him back down, shoving him down until his forehead's against the floor. "You think I haven't had enough shit to deal with today? You think I need this from you?"

"I don't know what the fuck you need from me," Ryan snarls back, letting Sam force him down. Struggling just enough to show that he still can. He keeps his hands clasped tight behind his head even now.

And that right there is the crux of the problem. In the past, it's been one nameless faceless boy or girl after another when he's felt like this. No emotion, nothing between them, stopping him, muddling his mind. His actions. "I need you to just _take_ whatever I want to give you," Sam says finally, keeping Ryan's head pressed to the rug.

 _Fuck_. In a blinding second Ryan reaches out and sweeps Sam's legs out from under him, bringing him down to the floor. While Sam is still stunned he rolls him to his stomach, hitching his arms up hard behind him. "I can't," he growls in Sam's ear. "So you'd better be ready to fucking take it from me."

The anger boils over in an instant and Sam's _thisclose_ to lashing out and fighting back before he goes slack. "I told you the first time we met. I don't do that," he says quietly. "Now let me go."

In an instant Ryan releases him, rolling away to his back. He covers his face with his hands and tries to calm his roiling thoughts, tries to figure out just what the hell they're doing here. "If you're going to hit me in anger I'm going to hit back," he says finally. "Ask something of me I can do."

Sam pushes up to his forearms and looks over at Ryan. Christ. Could he have fucked things up any more if he'd tried? He exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. Feeling even shittier than when he got home. And so fucking tired. "Put your clothes on and come for a walk with me."

Ryan sighs. "Okay," he whispers, pushing to his feet. Fuck, could he have fucked up worse? His erection is wilting quickly with the change in the room, which definitely makes it easier to put his clothing back on. Reaching out he tentatively links his fingers with Sam's, searching his lover's face.

Sam meets Ryan's eyes for a moment then drops his gaze. "I'm sorry," he says, giving Ryan's fingers a squeeze.

"For what?" Ryan is genuinely confused. "Being human? I forgive you for that." He steps closer and rubs his cheek against Sam's shoulder.

Sam lets go of Ryan's hand and wraps his arms around him, hugging him close, stunned by the sudden tears in his eyes.

Hugging him back, Ryan holds on tight. He can't even count the ways he screwed up this evening, and he holds onto Sam with an unspeakable sense of relief. It's not over. Whatever he did, it's not permanent. Sam still loves him.

Sam blinks back the tears as quickly as they came on and he pulls back a little, kissing Ryan softly on the mouth. "Let's go for that walk," he says, not wanting to talk about things anymore in here. "Do you need a jacket?"

"All right." Ryan grabs a windbreaker from the closet and shrugs it on, then leads the way out the back door to the beach. He doesn't bother with shoes, just digs his feet into the cold sand, his hand locked with Sam's.

They walk for a few minutes in silence, Sam staring out at the ocean, Ryan's hand held firmly in his. "Christ, I made a mess of that," he says softly, finally.

"I was thinking the same thing, about myself," Ryan admits, glancing at Sam's profile in the moonlight. "I just... I didn't know what you wanted, and then... I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I guess I don't know how not to fight back."

Sam nod. "That's not a bad thing," he says, rubbing his thumb over the base of Ryan's. "I don't usually act out of anger and when I do, it's always been with someone I didn't give a shit about. I wasn't expecting it to feel so different."

Ryan stops, gently tugging Sam in for a kiss. "I'm glad it felt different," he whispers.

"I am too. I just didn't - I didn't know how to stop once we got into it and I kept thinking it would... I don't know. Suddenly feel right."

Mulling that over, Ryan nods. "Do you want to talk about what happened at work?" he asks after a moment, wanting Sam to know there's no pressure, but it's an option.

"It's no one thing," Sam says, kicking at the sand with his boot. "Just the longer hours, people fucking up, script changes, reshoots, sleeping for shit - it just builds and builds."

"Yeah." Ryan blows out a breath, then grins crookedly. "Your sleep is _my_ job, though. If I'm not doing a good enough job of knocking you out at night, just say the word."

Sam laughs. "I don't know how you could improve on what you do," he says, raising their hands to his mouth and kissing Ryan's knuckles. "I always think I'm sleeping well and then I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a Mack truck."

Ryan frowns, his nurturing instincts coming to the fore. He simply can't fix everything. "One week," he promises. "One more week and then you can take me home."

"Yeah." Sam nods, thankful he can start counting down the days. "I don't know how long we're going to have home though," he says. "They want to start shooting Wrath in a couple of weeks."

"Whatever we've got, I'll take it." Ryan's beginning to understand what Sam has been saying all along about his work schedule. But there's no question in his mind. "And then we'll leave again. Just as long as I'm with you."

Relieved, Sam pulls Ryan in close, hugging him tight again. "I can't imagine going without you," he whispers.

Finally starting to be at ease once more, Ryan buries his face in Sam's neck, breathing his lover in. "You don't have to," he promises. "You're not going anywhere without me."

Sam stands there for a moment longer, the feel of Ryan in his arms helping melt away the last of the tension he's been carrying around. "So you're okay with me fucking up earlier?" he asks, pretty sure of the answer but needing to hear it anyway.

"I still don't think you did," Ryan murmurs, not wanting to argue, but wanting to set the record straight in case it helps. "Yeah, I'm fine, love. Probably a little bruised tomorrow."

"And not in a good way," Sam says with a small smile, still feeling like an ass even though he knows it'll pass. He links his hand with Ryan's again and they take a few more steps. "You sure you still want to give me your safeword?"

"Yes." If anything, Ryan is even more confident about it now. "We stopped tonight when we needed to. I never even got close to safewording. We worked through it together." He rubs Sam's knuckles against his cheek. "But I can wait until you're ready."

"How about when we go home?" Sam says.

"Yeah?" Ryan smiles at him, surprised. Feeling better than he has all night. "Yeah."

"Okay." Sam nods, smiling back. "Good." Incredibly grateful that he hasn't lost Ryan's trust.  



End file.
